How I Love a Wedding . . .

Despite the fact that I've lived in Mexico for roughly 6 years (off-and-on), I had never attended a Mexican wedding. I've done a funeral, quinceneras, baptisms, a first communion, a 50th wedding anniversary, and loads of birthday parties. But never a wedding. And if you've been reading this blog with any regularity, you know that I love a wedding. However, I've never been invited to a wedding in Mexico. Stalking doesn't count.

But, this weekend, I was invited to a real Mexican wedding.

OK, OK, it was a half-Mexican wedding, just like mine. However, they choose to hold the wedding in Mexico. And after Danyel's mother visited, they were compelled to add as many Mexican traditions to the ceremony and reception as humanly possible (or so rumor has it!). And, in my opinion, this was a fabulous touch!

Despite the fact that Clara was asked to be the flower girl (and I accepted on her behalf), we arrived late to the ceremony, thanks to the Mexican tradition (better put, chilango tradition) of spending any weekend away from Mexico City--preferably in the state of Morelos, where the wedding was held. We stayed at Mario's parents' house in Jojutla, an hour and a half away from Tepotzlan, where the wedding was held. We had no problem getting to the rehearsal on time on Friday, and planned on getting to the church extremely early on Saturday, so Clara could warm up to the idea of walking down the aisle. We also knew traffic would be heavier, and planned accordingly.

However, we were unprepared for exactly how bad the traffic was. Despite intending to arrive an hour before the ceremony, we arrived after the vows, as the lasso was placed around Danyel and Cesar's shoulders (in Mexico they don't just symbolically unite the couple in a marriage ceremony . . . it's done quite literally). After that, they finished with communion and then processed back down the aisle. I felt terrible about our tardiness, until I found out that the best man was in the same boat. Oh, Mexico City and your terrible traffic--why do you spread this plague to other areas on the weekend? It's the main reason most of the rest of us don't ever want to live there.

Danyel and Cesar clambered into a cute little car to be driven to the reception, while the rest of us walked 5 or 6 blocks on the cobblestones. OK, most walked, but far too many tried to flag down taxis which made for probably the most epic traffic jam in Tepotzlan's history. Not being stuck in traffic, I thought it was fabulous.

The reception was held outdoors at a site just under the mountains--absolutely beautiful! They went all out, having a reggae band play during the cocktail hour, maraichis serenaded Danyel and Cesar during dinner, and dancing was kicked off with a group of chinelo dancers (folkloric from Morelos--waaay more fun than traditional folkloric dancing, as they require audience participation . . . anyone who can bounce along to a beat (and it's a good beat) would have no problems joining in).

It was a beautiful night, and Clara hung in there pretty well through most of it. The fireworks as Danyel and Cesar cut the cake put her over the edge and she fell asleep in my arms as we ate the cake (and it was delicious!).

So congratulations, Danyel and Cesar!

Thanks for inviting me to my very first Mexican wedding (realizing that it was part gringo, with your bridesmaids and flower girl!). It was a beautiful celebration of the both of you!

My Mother-In-Law's Backyard

I just couldn't walk away from this last month without posting pictures of the backyard of my in-laws' house in Morelos. It's one of my favorite places ever, as long as the temperature is less than 104 degrees (but, for those days, there's always shade. Or the hose).

This first picture, with the purple and green potted plants are plants that I borrowed from my mother-in-law and planted in pots in my patio. And hoo-Nelly, have they taken over! I just saved my Gerber daisy from the purple stuff, and am hoping that the poinsetta will hold its own. But that delicate-looking green plant that surrounds the purple monster is menthol (or alcanfor as Mario's mom says). When my sister-in-law suffered from a cold for months on end, some of the menthol was cut, put in a vase in Lili's room, and was rumored to have some positive effect. After all, it is the main ingredient in Vick's VapoRub, right? (Well, let me dream that it is.) Sitting in our patio, I rubbed a menthol leaf for Mario, made him smell it and said, "Ah . . . it smells like Jojutla." After smelling it he looked a me a bit shocked and asked, "How did you do that?" Yeah, I'm that good.

And, like I mentioned in my first post from Morelos, there are bananas growing in the backyard. Bananas are almost always in season.






The red fruit below is called "Bull's Balls". It's edible, but I have yet to try it as I just can't get past the name.














And that tall, skinny tree on the right is a papaya tree. If you've never seen a papaya, they're roughly the size of a small watermelon. And they hang from the top of that skinny tree. I still can't figure that one out.

Also residing in the backyard are a lime tree, a mandarin orange tree, and a regular orange tree that grows sweet oranges on one side and sour oranges on the other (thanks to the magic of grafting). All this in the space of a four-car garage. Like I've said before, plants just like to grow in Morelos.

A few years ago, she also had a chocolate tree. This was, by far, my favorite plant in the backyard. My mother-in-law had hung a wreath of individually-wrapped chocolates from one of the lime tree's branches, and as we sat under the tree and had ganas for some chocolate, we just reached up, pulled off a chocolate and munched away.

Unfortunately, the chocolate tree hasn't bared fruit for some time now. Then again, the middle of the summer isn't quite the season for chocolate.

Ode to Morelos

I really do love this state. It drives me crazy sometimes, but it feels comfortable, like an old, holey sock that I just can't bear to throw away. OK, so sometimes it's comfortable and sometimes it's not.

But whenever we came here when we lived in the state of Mexico, I knew without the help of any roadside sign when exactly we had passed into Morelos. The state of Mexico reminds me of waves of grain (behind a mountanous background). On the drive, we briefly pass through Guerrero, which is on the verge of desert. Upon crossing Morelos, the vegetation explodes. Plants run amok here, refusing to be fenced in. It´s not the neatest or most orderly scene, espeially given how many Mexicans I know are fanatical about clipping grass back to the bare ground, trimming bushes to painful works of topiary art, sweeping fallen leaves off of patches of bare dirt, and daily washing sidewalks with soap and water. Morelenses are fanatical about cutting back their plants because otherwise the plants would take over! Here cutting back plants is a matter of survival.

Being here these last two weeks, I've been dreaming up some catchy slogans for the state.

• Morelos: the recovering alcholic's worst nightmare. Micheladas (1L beer + salsa + lime juice) are sold on every roadside.
• Morelos: birthplace of the speed bump. I seriously pass a good fifty during my 40 minute commute between Jojutla and Miacatlan.
• Morelos: watch your head--falling fruit!
• Morelos: where cows have the right of way on state highways.
• Morelos: where candles melt BEFORE they have the chance to be lit!
• Morelos: Mexico City´s swimming pool. (Let´s face it, chilangos really do quadruple the population of the state every weekend . . . or maybe that´s just my perspective, as I live with a chilango.)

I'll add more as I remember more. Anybody else have any others?

Sillas Morelenses

Maybe they're not just a Morelos thing.

Maybe they're just a hot-weather-place thing.

Whatever they are, I see them everywhere!

It's the circle chair!

Two iron rebar circles + 4 rebar legs + a wicked amount of vinyl rope = one very comfortable chair. It appears that everybody and their brother has at least one of these on their porch, patio, sidewalk . . . anywhere there is enough space. After all, these hot-weather states are great for sitting around for hours in a comfortable chair.

One of my friends was really excited about getting one of these beauties upon moving to Cuernavaca. However, I believe it took her roughly 6 months to find a place that sells them. How is this possible? If everyone has one, why are they nowhere to be found? Note: I've seen them sold on the side of the highway. However, as my friend is without car, stopping a bus to buy a bulky chair off the back of a truck is highly improbable. Back to Mexican Rule #1: make things as difficult as possible.

(Another note: this is not a cynical observation. Once Rule #1 is embraced, life in Mexico loses much of its frustration. For less heartburn, embrace Rule #1.)

But, back to the circle chair. My inlaws are blessed with a variety of them, and Clara has been generous enough to model to other prototypes--the baby cirle and the rocker.

Creepy Critters

Now that I live in the desert,I've been particularly disappointed that I don't find wildlife climbing the walls of my house like I used to. After all, in Toluca, one of the coldest cities in Mexico, I often found tiny lizards just hanging out with me on the roof of our apartment. In Saltillo--in the desert--I have yet to find any (although a friend of mine catches some in her backyard all the time. What´s the deal? Why aren't they in my patio? Are we too close to the center of town? We don't have any grass? Mario sprays too much DDT?)

Anyway, the other day I saw an adorable little lizard climbing the walls of my mother-in-law's house. She was less than thrilled. She HATES having animals in the house, particularly uninvited ones. The little lizard was hanging on the wall, just above the level of suegra's head. She marched right up to it, hands on her hips, and just began yelling at this lizard. "You need to get out of here! Go home! You don't belong here! Get out! If I see you again, I'll kill you! You hear that--I'll KILL you!"

After that tirade, she sat back down at the table with me, and under her breath she confided, "I wouldn't really kill it. Lizards like that are such noble creatures. But they need to be talked to firmly. That's the only way they'll go away."

Good to know.

I am also much relieved that she has no plans to kill the little guy. I do enjoy those little lizards so much.

But she was right, after all. We haven't seen the little guy since.

Where Bananas Grow in the Backyard

Yes, we've done it again! Clara and I are taking a month away from the great white north (and Hurricane Alex) to hang out with Mario's family and my kids in Morelos, two hours south of Mexico City.

This trip came about as a bit of a fluke. We hadn't seen Mario's family since Clara's birthday in January, and I was missing them a bit. However, no long weekends were in sight for quite a few months. Furthermore, Mario's niece had her third birthday on the 28th of June (the third birthday is a big deal in Mexico), plus the girls that I took care of at NPH will be graduating 6th grade. I really wanted to be here. So I casually mentioned to Mario the idea of maybe going here for a few weeks (sometimes flights between Monterrey and Mexico City are very affordable) and he said he had been thinking the same thing! However, his plan was to drive down, and leave me the car to visit my kids. He´d fly home and then come back for us in a month.

A month?

I was kind of thinking that two weeks would be good.

But Mario reminded me that his nephew would have his birthday about a month after his niece. OK. I was sold. I'm a sucker for those kids and don't get to see them near enough. After all, they're a big reason why we're here in the first place.

But now that we´ve been here for a week, I have additional reasons to be excited that we've got a few more weeks to go. Graduation at NPH was NOT held during that first weekend of July, as it has been since time began (OK, since Zedillo extended the school year to trim summer vacation to a meager 6 weeks). School started a week late this year, which means that graduation is this week instead of last week. I'm glad I had that flex time in my schedule. Plus, my sister-in-law mentioned going to the zoo in Chapultepec Park while we're in Mexico City. I love Chapultepec Park.

The flaw in Mario's plan was that which gave me use of the car. I've sworn for years that I would NEVER drive south of San Luis Potosi. With no set rules, combis, buses, and bikes swerving all over the roads, I was positive that driving here was beyond my skills. Furthermore, I haven't even driven in Saltillo since April (the mighty Cougar has been in the shop since then). I thought I was not ready to tackle driving with those not educated in Saltillo.

I was wrong. I have driven twice to NPH now from Jojutla (40 minutes away) and enjoyed it. Will wonders never cease?

Now our plan is: one more week in Jojutla, one week in Mexico City, and then one more week in Jojutla. Awesome.

Kids, kids, everywhere!

Clara and I extended our vacation in the Mexico City area so that Clara could spend more time with her abuelo, and so that I could visit my kiddos in Morelos.

Roughly five years ago, I spent two years as a full-time volunteer at a children's home an hour south of Cuernavaca (they gave me free room and board, so it wasn't too much of a hardship). My second year, I helped care of 26 1st, 2ed, and 3rd grade girls. These girls are now in 6th, 7th, and 8th grade. Compared to most ex-volunteers, I count myself very fortunate that I have in-laws that live near the house, so I can visit these girls at least every year.

As a quick summary, the house, Nuestros Pequenos Hermanos (http://www.nph.org/) has been in existence for 55 years, and has been a home for thousands of children, many of whom are clearly now adults. They operate under a beautiful philosophy of unconditional love, pledging to be a permanent family for the children that live there. Therefore, when children are accepted into the home, they must arrive with all their brothers and sisters, and they are never adopted out, giving the kids a sense of security and belonging.

Education is of utmost importance, so, upon reaching adulthood, "ex-pequenos" can go on to lead self-sufficient and productive lives. NPH runs its own school, which continues through the high school level [note: high school is not compulsory in Mexico]. Furthermore, upon completing high school and donating two years of service to the house, those who have the grades to be accepted at a university are given the opportunity. Currently, NPH has about 100 graduates studying at the university level.

In my time there, what I've witnessed overall is a group of healthy, happy kids who grow up learning how to cooperate with one another, and know how to share better than any other children I've ever met. For example, my daughter Clara, who already has far too many toys, was showered with toys and stuffed animals from the kids she met there.

Clara and I arrived at the house at lunch time. Initially, I thought, "perfect timing! We can go meet everyone at once."

Yeah. Poor, poor Clara.

She got mobbed.

However, she tolerated all the hugs, the poking, the proding, the cheek-pinching, and the noise surprisingly well. She didn't enjoy it, but she hung in there. While I did want to soak up as much of my time there with the girls I worked with, Clara and I took frequent breaks to hang out in our room and recover from over-stimulation. After a nap, we'd head out to be squeezed and hugged and poked all over again. I earned some bad-mommy points over those three days. Sorry, Clara.

I also got to witness my first de-gutting of the fishes. Every two months or so, fish are harvested from the fish ponds, cleaned and then fried for lunch. They're delicious. However, cleaning enough fish for 500+ people is more work than the ladies in the kitchen can possibly handle on their own. Therefore, the oldest girls spend half their Saturday gutting the fish. Ugh. I did hear of some dorm moms promising their girls plenty of free time on Sunday for this exceptionally disgusting Saturday chore. I enjoyed watching the procedure and Clara enjoyed the fact that they were unable to smother her for a few hours.

If, upon reading this you've wondered to yourself, "500 kids in one house! How to they pay for everything?" Good question, and during this financial crisis it's gotten harder and harder to them to make end meet. NPH runs a godparent program, asking donors "or godparents" to sponsor a specific child for $25 a month. These godparents make up a huge chunck of NPH's operating budget. When one sponsors a child, the child and godparent begin writing letters back and forth. I've seen the excitement when godparent letters arrive, and know that they do appreciate having someone who writes specifically to them. Furthermore, I've seen this godparent relationship stretch well into adulthood, long after the godparent has stopped financial support for the specific child. The woman I worked with during my two years there was an ex-pequena, and I helped her translate a letter to her godmother, letting her godmother know that she was going to be a mother herself! How beautiful for this woman, who did not have much extended family of her own, to know that she could write her godmother such exciting news.

I guess I got carried away on that. However, if you know that you generally have $25 in spare change every month, NPH would be most grateful for your donation. They are hurting for funds, and after my two years there, I can vouch that the organization is a good steward of what they are given.